


The Golden Calf II: Man and Beast

by TheVulgarBookworm



Series: Minoan Son [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Bestiality, Animalistic, Bestiality, Creature Lucius Malfoy, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, F/M, Feral Behavior, Inhuman Cock, Minotaur - Freeform, Mirror Sex, Other, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Sleepy Sex, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVulgarBookworm/pseuds/TheVulgarBookworm
Summary: Now that Lucius is free of Azkaban, Hermione finds herself forced to face everything that was so easy to avoid when he was away: what she wants from him, what he can give her, and what he wants to be for their son. It terrifies her that she doesn't have the answers to any of it.Lucius hasn't shifted in years, not since the end of the war. It's a secret he has maintained with Hermione's unexpected assistance. Azkaban has left him restless, and his first transformation in ten years has brought with it unanticipated changes. He feels less human, and somehow more himself, which is fine, because he has a son who looks at him with wonder and doesn't know his sordid past, and he has a woman receptive to the beastly part of him. She even seems to prefer it and Lucius is all right with that.





	The Golden Calf II: Man and Beast

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, the hardest thing to write for this story was the summary, and I'm not quite sure it really fits, but oh well. I'm so excited to have part two done! I have an entire arc planned for this series, but I won't be rushing the next installment out. There's a soft spot in my heart for golden Minotaur!Lucius, and I want to take the time to do him and Hermione justice. 
> 
> Now for some particulars: In part one, sign language was denoted by italics. I've done away with that but I'm not planning to go back and make those changes to part one. I'm just going to leave it the way it is. Just know that if Hermione is communicating with Prospero she will do so both verbally and in sign language. The reason I am making the change is because I am introducing Minoan in this story [which will be denoted by brackets thusly]. It was just getting too cluttered to maintain both, and Minoan factors heavily in a future installment.
> 
> I also didn't write Fleur's accent, because it's been ten years, and it really shouldn't be that noticeable at this point. Also, I really just didn't want to write it.
> 
> I hope you like this one as much as I do. I think that's it. Now on to part two!

In the ten years since he had been gone, Hermione had forgotten just how warm Lucius was. He was like fire pressed against her back, and she felt cocooned in his warmth, protected by the solid mass surrounding her. A decade in Azkaban had barely touched him; his minotaur form anyway. There were more lines in his human face, but his beast remained much the same. His golden hair was still silky and soft. He was still just as strong as she remembered. If anything had changed at all, it was his stamina, though she suspected much of that was due to the length of his incarceration, and the novelty of finally being out.

As his captive at the end of the war, Hermione had learned quickly that in his minotaur form, Lucius was entirely capable of getting off more than once in a rather short period of time. Two had tended towards the norm, though there were rarer occasions when he had managed three, and Azkaban must have truly deprived him because he was currently working himself up to number four. Lucius had spent himself twice before falling asleep, waking briefly during the night, perhaps an hour later, though she couldn't be sure, so that he could have her again. The encroaching dawn had not yet tinged her room with its faint coral glow when his softened cock, nestled against the cleft of her arse began stirring to wakefulness, thickening again and rising from the protective sheath it had taken her weeks to realize he even had. But then, in the beginning, he hadn't been around her much when he wasn't hard and ready for her, and she hadn't been looking that closely.

Hermione squirmed in his hold, pressing back against his burly chest and wriggling her hips against him in an attempt to encourage his interest. Despite the ache between her legs, she was already wet and wanting. Lucius snorted above her head, beginning to stir, his heavily muscled arm moving to caress down her body. His large hand wandered across her chest, finding her breast, and palming it, covering it completely as he rubbed the bottom of his jaw back and forth across the top of her head. She felt his hand begin to wander down over her stomach almost gently, and let him grasp her leg and pull it back across his body. 

When the head of his cock slipped inside her, he was still only half hard. It burned slightly from the roughness of their earlier couplings as he slid inside, and Hermione couldn't help the cry that escaped. A low rumble emanated from deep within his chest as Lucius held her to him, and languidly thrust his hips against her, his shaft filling, thickening and lengthening as he did. When she placed a hand on her stomach, she moaned at the feeling of him moving inside her. Lucius had never really been gentle with her, and she had learned to crave his rough touch and single-minded focus, but her vaginal walls were so abused by that massive length between his legs that she welcomed his almost tender lovemaking. She felt a sudden rush of slickness, further easing the slide of his shaft as her arousal ticked up another notch. Hermione knew his languid pace wouldn't last, and she knew he was displaying such tenderness only because he was still half asleep, but that didn't stop her from enjoying it while it lasted.

All too soon he woke fully, pushing her over onto her hands and knees and trapping her beneath his bulky form. He began to thrust into her in earnest, driven by the need to breed, to finish and empty inside her once more, and all Hermione could do was spread her legs wide to accommodate him and moan into the pillow beneath her head. Hermione whimpered as he drove deep and stilled above her, releasing a low, animal call of pleasure as he came.

Hermione thought he was done when he pulled away, and she collapsed onto the bed and lay still, trying to catch her breath. The mattress shifted under his weight, her eyes snapped open, and she gasped when his warm, wet nose nudged between her thighs to urge her hips back up. He breathed in and out, scenting her, a hot gust of air against her aching cunt, before his rough tongue licked at the mess between her legs, striking against and dragging over her clit with unerring precision.

Hermione glanced back over her shoulder at Lucius, to find him absorbed in his task, his eyes closed, and his snout pushing up against her with each languorous lick. Her moans were near constant, throaty and rather loud, and they only seemed to spur his enthusiasm as he ate her out. It amazed her how animal his instincts were in his animagus form when he hadn't shifted back for a while. Cleaning her up after rutting her senseless was something he had only begun doing late in the war after spending so much time transformed, and it wasn't something he had done often.

Hermione wiggled in his grasp as his hands held her in place by her hips, his fingers digging into her hip bones with bruising force causing her to whimper. Lucius lowed at her in warning, the deep vibrations from the back of his throat nearly bringing on her impending climax all on their own. His rough, textured tongue dragged across her clit repeatedly, dipping deep inside to lick her out, until at last she could take no more, and Hermione came with a shudder and a quiet groan into her pillow.

There came the familiar sound of cracking bones. The hands on her hips grew slender and more elegant. He sighed from behind her and it was a wholly human sigh. She pulled the sheet up over herself with a slight wince, and settled down to get a bit more rest before her son- their son, she corrected herself, woke up.

Lucius settled down beside her, on his back, one arm behind his head, and the other resting on his stomach. He didn’t touch her. She hadn’t expected him to. Lucius didn’t cuddle with her. He never had. He wasn’t even really that affectionate. But then, Hermione wasn’t even attracted to his human form. She could certainly admit that he was handsome. He just wasn’t what she wanted. Her fear so long ago, that the beast would ruin her for all other men, had come true, and it even extended to the man who gave that beast his form. It didn't bother her as it would have once.

The silence stretched between them until Hermione glanced over at the man beside her. He looked asleep, but the minor tension in his jaw told her otherwise. She wondered what was on his mind, though not for long as her eyelids grew heavy and sleep claimed her again at last.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she woke, the bed beside her was empty. A hand on the mattress revealed it to be cold as well. The only evidence that she had not simply dreamed Lucius’ presence was his scent that still lingered on the sheets, and the unbelievable ache between her legs. Well, there was also the copious amount of dried semen sticking to her. How on earth could she have forgotten that?

Hermione dragged herself across the mattress towards the nightstand, searching for something to dull the pain, and lay staring at the ceiling as she waited for it to kick in. She hadn’t had a night like that in...years. Well, ever if she were being honest with herself, but it had been years since her last decent shag, one that would even come close to comparing with what they had just done. Thankfully the pain potion worked quickly. Only five minutes, and she was shoving aside the bedding, swinging her feet to the floor, and limping with slow steps towards the bathroom.

It was still early yet, enough that she doubted Prospero was awake, so Hermione luxuriated under the spray, allowing the hot water to soothe her aching muscles. She had no idea where Lucius had gone, or if he would return. They hadn't really talked. Actually, they hadn't talked at all. Lucius had been rather stoic, which hadn't really mattered because they couldn't communicate when he was shifted. They had fucked. That was it.

She had been hoping that he would want to spend time with his son. They had seemed to hit it off well enough. The sounds father and son had made at each other across the dinner table had been near constant, and Prospero had been so excited, it had taken ages to get him to bed. The last thing she wanted was to unwittingly set him up for disappointment.

Hermione shut the water off and stepped out of the shower with a sigh. She should have asked Lucius what his plans were, but she hadn't wanted to seem needy. If she had been thinking with her head, she wouldn't be in her current predicament. Now she would have to go break the news to her son. It was with slow deliberation that she set about reluctantly getting ready for her day, her brain working overtime to figure out what she was going to say to an excitable young boy about why his father wasn't there.

She had another twenty minutes to fret over the topic as she prepared breakfast before Prospero wandered into the kitchen, rubbing at tired eyes with the backs of his hands. When he hugged her, his horn bud digging into her bruised waist, Hermione covered her slight grimace with a smile and did her best not to let on how much it actually hurt.

“Morning,” she said, ruffling the hair atop his head and hugging him back. “Sleep well?”

His head bobbed, and he grunted in affirmation, sliding into his seat at the table. Even as a toddler Prospero had always been an absolute grump in the mornings, something he had in common with his father. Lucius had typically always been up before her, but if he hadn’t been, Merlin forbid she ever wake or even touch him. Prospero, thankfully, wasn’t belligerent in the mornings like his father. He only took forever to wake up enough to function.

“So, what are we doing today?” She had decided to keep her questions neutral, normal, probing gently until she found out how much Lucius had told their son. Hermione prayed he hadn’t been cruel enough to simply tell him that he wasn’t coming back.

Prospero got all excited, leading Hermione to believe that Lucius hadn't been a complete wanker, but his hands were moving so fast, she couldn't make out what he trying to communicate to her. 

“Woah!” she laughed. “Slow down, sweetheart. I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He halted completely, taking a deep dramatic breath as he paused, and then began again. “Father is going to take me exploring. I told him all about the fort, and he said he wanted me to show it to him.”

“Oh really?” she exclaimed with interest. Lucius was actually coming back? 

_ “ _ Mmmhmm _ ,” _ he replied, nodding enthusiastically. “We're going to race up there and I'm going to show him how fast I can run. He thinks I might even beat him there!”

“Well, you are pretty fast.” Hermione was relieved that all her worrying had been for naught. 

“I forgot to ask him where he was off to this morning. He didn't happen to mention last night, did he?” she worded carefully. Prospero didn't need to know that her experience with Lucius had remained completely physical, or that they hadn't even spoken about such simple matters.

Prospero shook his head emphatically before finishing off his glass of milk. “He's going to come back this afternoon. We're going to the fort when he does. You should come too.”

“Well, I don't know…”

“You don't like father?” There was a hint of disappointment in the tilt of his head.

“No, that isn't it sweetheart. It's just that you haven't had a lot of time with him. I want you two to get to know each other. There will be plenty of time for all of us later.” She wasn't sure if that was true, but her main concern wasn't about her relationship or lack thereof with Lucius. Her priority was Prospero.

She  _ was _ curious about where Lucius had gone off to though, and why he hadn't told her, but there wasn't really anything to be done about it. They had made no promises to each other, and as she had no claim on him, it really wasn't her business what he did anyway. The thought made her unexpectedly sad, and she raised her glass to her lips to hide it from her son.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius threw the sheaf of parchment onto the desk with a sneer. “I'm not signing that.”

“No, of course you aren't, but I thought you should know what you're facing.”

Lucius stood abruptly, pacing in front of the window. Small spaces made him anxious these days, and while his solicitor's office wasn't exactly small, with the doors necessarily shut for privacy, it was claustrophobic enough. He stared down at the people passing by in the street, silent for the moment.

“Why would she have waited so long?” he mused to himself as he stared out the window.

“Well, I doubt she ever really thought you'd be released. Why go through the proceedings if it isn't necessary?”

Lucius heard the distinct sound of parchment being drawn across the wooden surface, but did not turn around. “I've managed to put off Narcissa for the time being, but I estimate two weeks, at most, before she starts demanding an answer.”

“I've yet to decide what I'll do.” His eyes were glued to the scene in the street; a family of four, making their way into Quality Quidditch Supplies, the children hopping up and down excitedly as they looked into the shop window at the latest offerings.

“Can you at least narrow it down for me? I don't have that many people on my staff.”

Lucius considered the question as the little boy pointed at the shop’s window, a massive grin on his face, and couldn't help how his thoughts turned to his own sons. He had often spoiled Draco to excess with broomsticks and Quidditch gear as a boy. Despite the short amount of time he had spent with him, he could already tell that Prospero would be different. He was energetic, inquisitive, and intelligent. Clearly he took after his mother, as Draco took after his.

“Narcissa believes that she is entitled to more than she is due. I'm inclined to disagree,” he announced, a plan beginning to take shape in his mind.

“And what do you plan to do about it, Lucius?”

Lucius finally turned to face his longtime solicitor, and gave him a serious look, the hint of a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps I should give her exactly what she deserves.”

It would be fitting, Lucius thought to himself. She had been a driving force in their current state of affairs after all. She had wanted him to sire a child with the Granger girl. It may have been at the Dark Lord's behest, but she had pushed for it. It wasn't his fault that she had balked when he had inevitably grown to enjoy the mechanics involved in the endeavor.

Lucius gave his exacting instructions to the man, and then was out the door almost before he received the obligatory assurances that the paperwork, soon to be drafted, would be flawless.

He played it off well enough as his normal taciturn nature, but in truth the room had become unbearably claustrophobic. Standing on the sidewalk, Lucius breathed deeply, feeling the tightness in his chest relax incrementally. Azkaban had truly left its mark on him. He almost couldn't bear to be indoors these days, and he doubted that would change any time soon. 

The cottage, small though it was, had been different somehow, and he couldn't determine why that was so. A group of wizards passed him as he stood on the sidewalk, glaring at him as they walked by, but when he met their challenge with a sneer, they ducked their heads quickly and moved on.

A lesser man might have allowed it to bother him, but Lucius had expected the derision following his release. He had actually considered the possibility that Hermione might feel the same as well. Lucius didn't want to admit it, but he had been fearful that she would not have actually wanted him to meet his son. Correspondence while he was safely entrenched behind bars was a different beast entirely to allowing them to meet.

He had been immensely relieved when his fears had been proven unfounded. His gaze landed on the shop sign across the street, but he turned instead and began to make his way down the sidewalk, people scattering before him. Lucius kept his head high, proudly as any Malfoy would have done, though by the end of his trip, he had to admit to himself that as out of practice as he was, the effort of maintaining the facade was absolutely exhausting.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed in surprise, dropping her armful of apples as she turned around and collided unexpectedly with Lucius. He looked from her to watch one of them roll across the floor dispassionately, and then he turned his eyes on her again. She thought he might offer to help her, but he didn’t move as she bent down to gather the fallen fruit, not even to step out of her way. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly, and she glanced up at him to find him looking down at her quizzically. 

“Packing a lunch,” she huffed, pushing past his leg to snatch up the last piece of fruit. He was much more surly than she remembered him being. “Prospero said you were going out exploring today. He wanted to wait for you.”

Lucius made a sound in the back of his throat that was more growl than anything else, giving her a short nod. “Yes, an outing of some kind. He wanted to show me something called a fort.”

Hermione stood back up, and moved over to the sink. “It's not a real fort. He just calls it that. I think he got the idea from a book.”

“What is it then?” His voice finally held a hint of interest.

“An abandoned quarry. Nature has kind of reclaimed it. I think you'd like it. It's-”

She stopped short, her breath hitching as she felt Lucius move behind her and press up against her back. He was already bare from the waist up, but still decidedly human. When he reached around her for the button on her jeans, she realized what the sudden interest in his voice had been about.

“Lucius, please...”

“You know you want to.” He pulled down the zipper, one hand sliding inside her jeans, and Hermione heard and felt him begin to shift behind her. His fingers teased her through the thin fabric of her knickers, before slipping beneath them to press firmly against her.

She heard his inhaled breath as he caught her scent, and when next he spoke, his voice already sounded gruff with the change and his growing arousal. “I know you want to…”

“We don't have time for this,” she protested weakly, but Lucius continued pushing her jeans off her hips as he finished his transformation. The sounds behind her were little more than guttural noises, but she could easily imagine them to mean,  _ We'll make the time. _

Prospero came bounding into the room just then, halting Lucius’ roving hands. He pulled his hand out of her knickers so fast, she almost laughed aloud. The herd was much more relaxed when it came to physical displays than either muggle or wizarding society. It had taken her quite a while to get used to the differences. 

Prospero had seen much more than a little groping between consenting adults, but Hermione was glad that Lucius was a wizard first and foremost, because he didn't know this. She had always been careful never to let Prospero see her with a member of his herd before. After all, she came from the same world that Lucius did, and though she had grown more comfortable with such public displays, she wasn't quite ready to have that talk with him. Hermione doubted she would ever be ready to have  _ that _ talk with him, but he was precocious, and if Lucius was around for any length of time, he would find out at some point. Lucius had already proven to be insatiable in the short time he had been back.

Prospero said something to him as she did up her jeans while still shielded by his bulky form. “Well, I hope you're ready to go,” she said, snatching up the picnic lunch and handing it to Lucius. 

“I might not be in when you two get back. I'm visiting with the girls. Just make yourself at home. Prospero will help.” He took the basket from her, a somewhat helpless look on his face as Prospero tugged excitedly on his other hand. 

Lucius probably thought his unease was well-hidden, and it might have been had he been wearing his human face. His calculating coldness had always unnerved her in her youth; the first glimpse of human emotion from him when he had been at his lowest and Voldemort had been threatening him in his own drawing room. If he had been wearing his human face, if she had not spent a decade gazing at him in miniature, he might have been able to fool her.

She imagined this was all new territory for Lucius, as her memory of her childhood told her that outings of this sort were probably not something he had ever done with Draco. The slight look of fear in his liquid black eyes confirmed this theory for her. Rather than laugh at the idea that Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater, was afraid of entertaining a ten- year-old for an afternoon, Hermione stretched up onto her toes, and pressed her lips lightly against his strange rubbery mouth.

“Have fun,” she offered helpfully and then wondered whether Lucius even knew how to have fun. She whispered in his ear, “Let him lead. He knows where to go.”

The ‘ _ You'll be fine _ ,’ she wisely refrained from adding. He didn't look as if he would appreciate it.

Lucius nodded stiffly, his fingers tightened on the basket’s handle, and he allowed himself to be pulled out the kitchen door. Hermione hoped everything went well, but inside she was secretly worried. In her experience, Lucius Malfoy was not a wizard comfortable with children or domestic life. She briefly considered postponing her girls day out, but she had done so too many times already in recent weeks, and they really did need time to themselves. Lucius would just have to figure it out. He was a smart wizard. It wasn't exactly beyond his capability.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucius followed his son across fields of tall grasses and through a densely wooded thicket. Every so often, he would turn back to look at him, obvious joy on his face. Prospero's joy was infectious, and by the time they reached the treeline, emerging at the quarry's edge, Lucius didn't feel quite as terrified as he had been before he had been pulled through the kitchen door. He was just glad that Hermione hadn't noticed. He didn't like the idea of her thinking him weak. Whether that was a Malfoy trait or it was linked to his animagus form, he had no idea.

All of that was quickly pushed to the back of his mind as he stood looking out at the breathtaking view. Hermione had been right. Part of the quarry had flooded creating a sizable lake on one side. Flowers and trees grew from the cracks and crevasses in the rock. Nature had indeed reclaimed it, and it was a rather beautiful spot. 

[Come on, pater!] Prospero called out, urging him to follow before taking off at a breakneck pace. His heart lurched, not because of the boy’s reckless dash, but because he was still getting used to the term of endearment. From what little he understood of herd culture, it was not a term bestowed lightly on just anyone.

Lucius watched with initial apprehension as he began to scramble down the side of the quarry, but relaxed as Prospero nimbly picked his way down to the quarry floor several hundred meters below. He followed with a smile, but at a pace much reduced from that of his son's. There was a picnic lunch to worry about after all, and it had been a long while since physical activity had been required of him as he languished in Azkaban. He had nearly convinced himself it was that, and not merely the ten years, which slowed his descent by the time he reached the bottom.

Prospero had already stripped down to his underpants and waded into the lake by the time Lucius had solid ground under his feet again.

[Prospero,] he called, clearing his throat authoritatively. [Your mother said you haven't eaten your lunch yet. Come along, now.]

The boy seemed momentarily disappointed, but quickly made his way over. Lucius sat down under a copse of trees to wait, and took off his shoes and socks. Thank Merlin for enchanted clothing that actually fit his body and transformed with him, because his two forms were as different as night and day. He dug his toes into the sparse grass beneath his feet, feeling completely at ease for the first time since he had woken that morning with Hermione Granger lying in the bed next to him.

They ate in silence for a time, though he could tell that Prospero had something on his mind. Lucius pretended not to notice, certain the boy would come to it on his own. Just when he was beginning to think that might not be the case, Prospero hesitantly spoke up.

[Pater, may I ask you something?]

[Of course,] he replied. Lucius was sure he had an idea of what Prospero was going to ask, he would be a fool not to, and he wasn't sure he was quite ready to answer. Had it been Draco, he wouldn't have, but the unspoken rules governing the interactions between father and son in pure-blood families would have made Draco as unlikely to ask as he would have been to answer. Lucius wondered if that was part of the reason he had lost him. His mother had always been more willing to indulge him, to bend the rules in her favor. It was little wonder he had sided with her.

His relationship with Prospero would be different, he resolved. He wouldn't make the same mistakes again even if that meant he had to get comfortable with being more truthful than he had ever been in his life.

[Mater said you- she said that you went away because you did bad things.]

[Were those her exact words?] Prospero nodded lightly. Lucius looked away for a moment and then came to a decision, taking the plunge. [Then she was being kind, Prospero. I’ve done terrible things; the kind of terrible things that don't bear repeating. I've even done them to her.]

[Why?] 

Lucius leaned back against the tree behind him, taking a deep breath, and releasing it through his nostrils, wondering how best to explain himself. Prospero was clearly an intelligent boy, but he was still only ten, and he hadn't been raised the same way he himself had been. For that, Lucius was thankful.

[I doubt there's actually a good answer to that question. Although it would be the truth, it would be far too simple to say that it was expected of me.]

[Because you were a,] he cocked his head, searching for the right word, [a full-blood?]

[A pure-blood, and yes. My father expected me to follow in his footsteps.] Lucius had always considered himself a politician first and foremost; a shadow operative of a sort. If not for his father’s insistence, he would probably never have taken the mark. He would have been a sympathizer certainly, perhaps even a financial backer, but most likely he never would have taken the mark.

[I don't understand, pater. If you didn't want to do those things, why would you?]

The innocent question tested his resolve to be truthful to his son, and it took everything in him to quietly murmur, [I never said that, son.]

Prospero's big black eyes searched his own as if unable to fathom what he had just heard. [Did you  _ want  _ to hurt people, pater?]

[Sometimes,] he responded quietly, unable to maintain eye contact under that intense, innocent stare.

[Did you want to hurt mater?]

He paused for half a second. [Sometimes.]

Prospero was quiet for a good long while, and Lucius was curious to know what was going through his mind. Had he already ruined everything so soon? Would his son no longer wish to associate with him? Would the truth be too much for him to handle? Should he have trusted his instincts and lied to the boy instead?

Finally Prospero spoke, almost reluctantly, [My friend, James, said I couldn’t trust you, pater. He said you were a bad man. I didn’t believe him at first…]

_ At first.. _ . Lucius’ stomach tightened, and his suspicious gaze slid back over to the boy. [How much do you know about what happened, Prospero?]

Lucius didn’t need to know his son well to recognize the guilty tilt to his shoulders. [I looked it up in a book; to prove him wrong. He wasn’t wrong.]

If there had ever been any doubt about whether being a scheming snake was an inherited trait, the boy had just laid that doubt to rest. Prospero knew everything, everything he hadn’t wanted him to know. Lucius could scarcely believe he had just been tested and nearly bested by a ten-year old boy. He glanced at their surroundings. Had he been brought to this idyllic place to lull him into a false sense of security? To make it easier for him to lie? Given the line of questioning, he could well imagine he had been because Prospero had shown no hint of bringing it up before. It would have worked too had he not already decided to be a better father to Prospero, or to at least make the attempt. For a boy not raised by Malfoys, he was more a Malfoy than he had any right to be.

[He said you would lie about it. He was wrong about that, pater.]

_ Oh, if you only knew just how close he was to being right, _ Lucius thought to himself. 

[How do you feel about all of that?] he asked instead.

[I don't think mater wanted me to know.] Lucius could imagine the many reasons why she wouldn’t, and he tended to agree with them. Even without the knowledge of exactly what he had done to Hermione, the history books, and most likely the one Prospero had read, had not been kind to him. Lucius knew what they said. At best they portrayed him as an unrepentant villain. At worst he was an utter monster. 

[I’m glad I know though.]

That answer truly surprised Lucius. [What makes you say that?]

[Because I want to know who you are, pater. Even if you’ve done terrible things, you paid for them.]

Lucius wasn't convinced a ten year prison sentence, even  _ if _ it was served in Azkaban, was quite enough to cover all his sins, nor was it enough to grant him blanket forgiveness.

[Besides,] Prospero continued, [if you were still bad, you wouldn't have told me the truth.]

Lucius was shaking his head almost before Prospero was done speaking. [Prospero, I'm not a good man. I know that. After everything I've done, I know I don't deserve a second chance, though I do wish to get to know you as well. I would welcome the chance to try to become the man you think I am.]

Prospero was quiet for a time, seeming to think on Lucius’ words. [It's the ones who don't deserve it who need it the most, pater.]

Lucius chuckled wryly, picking up a small, smooth stone just for something to do with his hands.

[Let me guess. Your mother- Your mater,] he corrected himself, [told you that...]

Prospero nodded and Lucius did the same in reply, a noncommittal noise in his throat.

[Then perhaps I should be thankful she was a stubborn Gryffindor.] Anyone else would have made certain they had pressed charges against him. They would have made his behavior public knowledge and cemented his life sentence in Azkaban. He still didn't know why she hadn't. It would have made so much more sense to him if she had.

[Pater,] he began, that edge of nervous hesitation creeping back into his voice, [do you really want to get to know me? Did you mean that?]

For a moment Lucius was stunned speechless. Weekly correspondence with someone you had never actually met was naturally a poor substitute for a real physical relationship. They may have written each other over the years, but they were acquaintances. If that. He had thought they had made a decent start since his release. Surely, he couldn't have misjudged so poorly.

[Yes, absolutely. Why would you even think otherwise?]

Prospero's next words were uttered so softly that he almost didn't hear them, but he did and it made his blood run cold at the realization of what Prospero was getting at.

[Because I’m not a pure-blood…]

The stone he had been toying with slipped from his fingers. There was a tickle in his throat and sudden tears threatening to form in the corners of Lucius’ eyes. He hadn't even known it was truly possible in his minotaur form, but the heartbreaking way his son murmured the words forced him to blink away the emotion before he lost complete control of it.

Lucius shoved aside every ingrained instinct that told him not to, that a Malfoy didn't show such emotion, and reached out, his large hand landing on the boy's shoulder. Prospero had hugged him tightly when they had first met. As much as Lucius might like to think the boy took after him, it was clear that he was much like his mother as well. He knew what he had to do. It was what she would have done. There was only the slightest hesitation, one he hoped was missed, before his fingers tightened, and he pulled the boy tight against his chest. 

Now was not the time to fall back on the old, familiar patterns of behavior that had always served him in the past. That behavior, those ideals, no doubt detailed in the history books Prospero had read, haunted him now. It was those pure-blood beliefs that spurred the boy's questions.

Prospero was still stiff in his arms, and it was all completely new territory for him, but Lucius knew the boy needed more assurances if he was not yet convinced. His throat was tight and his voice slightly choked as he spoke.

[I don’t care about that, Prospero. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. You’re my son, and you're a Malfoy no matter what anyone says. You are perfect just as you are.]

Lucius heard the tiny sniffles, felt the way Prospero's shoulders hitched, and held him tighter, the boy's head tucked beneath his own. He wondered if it was enough, and then relief swept through him as he felt slender, yet strong arms wind around his waist, and small hands curl against his back. The embrace, foreign as it was to him, felt right, and Lucius found himself in no hurry to end it.

Lucius held him until the sniffling stopped and the boy's shoulders stilled. At last Prospero pushed away from him, ducking his head to swipe surreptitiously at his eyes. He made no mention of it, picking up his dropped stone instead, and pretending to study it intently.

Once he had composed himself, Prospero asked, [So, are you going to stay then? With us, I mean.]

[I honestly don't know.] Lucius held up a hand to forestall the protest. [Your mater and I have not spoken of it. Whether I stay or not will be her choice. Considering all I've done I owe her that, but know that I do wish to be in your life no matter what.]

Prospero nodded solemnly. Lucius’ answer was clearly not exactly what he wanted to hear. [But mater-]

[Don't worry so much about your mater right now,] Lucius interjected. [We'll talk. It's nothing to concern yourself with.]

Prospero looked like he would continue protesting, and a sudden, unexpected thought struck Lucius. It was so wildly out of character for him, that he suspected it just might work as a suitable distraction. After all, Prospero was nothing like his brother, and Lucius didn't want him worrying about something he had no control over.

[You should be more concerned about yourself,] Lucius continued, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a lopsided grin. [You've already shown me you're quick on your feet, but the real question is whether or not you can swim.]

With that, Lucius scooped the boy up into his powerful arms, and started for the water's edge. Prospero squirmed, trying to escape, which only made Lucius dig his fingers into the boy's ribs until he howled with laughter. He was still giggling when Lucius waded knee deep into the clear blue water, and then chucked him further out, watching the boy land with a splash.

Lucius was still grinning when Prospero came up sputtering, shaking his shaggy head, and sending water droplets flying everywhere. As Lucius waded out into the deeper water, a half formed thought began to take shape in his mind: Hermione had been right. He did like this place. Not in his solicitor's office, or even in the streets outside, and certainly not in Azkaban, had he felt the weight lift from shoulders the way he did in this place.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere in The Three Broomsticks was rather subdued considering the establishment's reputation for hosting a boisterous crowd, but then it was still early afternoon on a Saturday. The crowd probably wouldn't start trickling in for a good long while. Ginny and Fleur were already there, parked at a corner table out of the way. They were clearly splitting a bottle of wine between them, and had evidently been there a while already, if Ginny's wild hand gestures were any indication.

By the time Hermione ordered her butterbeer and turned around to begin making her way to the table, Luna had also arrived, so she waited for her strange friend to order as well.

“Hey, look who finally showed up!” Ginny exclaimed a touch too loudly as they drew near. Hermione ducked her head as several people turned to look in their direction, and swatted Ginny's shoulder to shush her as she took her seat.

“A good night, I take it?” Fleur quipped, eyeing Hermione with a grin and perfectly arched brow. She apparently hadn't missed her slight wince as she sat down.

“Yes,” she groused, attempting to glare at her, but only succeeding in offering a sly grin, and an impressive eye roll. “He was a little enthusiastic.”

She received a conspiratorial smirk in reply.

Where once she had irrationally hated her, Hermione had grown close to the other witch over the years. Fleur alone had some idea of her situation, being married to Bill, and could sympathize where the others could not.

“How does that even work?” Ginny slurred loudly, drawing attention once again. “I mean, doesn't he have a-”

Hermione clamped a hand over her friend's mouth, hissing through clenched teeth, “You have got to lower your voice, Gin!”

“Sorry,” the redhead stage whispered once Hermione released her. Fleur discreetly moved the wine bottle away before Ginny could get it into her head to refill her glass.

“But seriously, didn't you say he has a bull pe-”

“Yes, and I seriously regret telling you that now!” Hermione answered, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was suddenly wishing she had ordered something much stronger than butterbeer. Lucius would naturally be the main topic of their conversation. How could he not be?

Following Prospero's birth, they had all managed to repair the rift caused by her unwillingness to press charges against Lucius, and they had all once again grown closer, though her relationship with Ron had unfortunately remained broken even to this day. And even though they had initially condemned the idea of her continued correspondence with Lucius, over time it had become less of an issue. She thought perhaps she had Fleur to thank for that. 

Fleur touched her arm gently, and Hermione looked up, giving her a grateful smile for the gesture. “But your reunion went well?”

She started to nod, and then shrugged, raising her glass to her lips, “Not as well as I had hoped, but he and Prospero seem to have hit it off. I was honestly worried about that.”

“But what about you?”

Hermione gave her friend a watery smile. “It's physical, Gin. It's always been physical.”

“And he hasn't said if he wants more than that? More than just the physical?”

She shook her head solemnly at Ginny's question.

“How do you feel about that?”

Hermione knew what Fleur was asking, even if she hadn't come out and said the words. She hadn't discussed her feelings on the subject with her friends, had actually managed to avoid the subject rather well over the years, but Lucius was back and she couldn't avoid it any longer. Her finger traced the rim of her glass as she searched her thoughts for the right words to explain to her friends, but most of all herself, how she truly felt.

“I thought I would be okay with it. Did a pretty good job of convincing myself even.” Hermione shook her head slowly. “After he fell asleep last night, I had the chance to really look at him, touch his skin, breath in the scent of him…”

She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath to steel herself.

“I tried to move on. Merlin knows I tried. It's been ten years, and it all came rushing back like it was yesterday. The truth is that I want more from him, and I don't know if he can even give it.”

They were all quiet for a time as they digested Hermione's confession. The din around them had steadily grown louder and even Ginny seemed relatively sobered by the serious turn in the conversation.

“I know we need to talk, but I'm a little afraid of what he'll say. He was gone when I woke up this morning and I still don't know where he went.”

“I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but Bill heard that Narcissa contacted him, and that's not all. He said there's something going on with the accounts.”

“Unfreezing them maybe? Were his accounts frozen when he went to Azkaban?” Hermione couldn't remember.

“Yes, but he said it was more than that. The files just kept coming in. He couldn't look at them, but he was told there would probably be more when they opened on Monday. Maybe they want to,” Fleur paused, searching for the right word, “reconcile.”

Hermione nursed her glass, thinking about it. Bill wouldn't have said anything if his information hadn't been credible, and Narcissa would certainly have been a suitable reason for Lucius to remain silent on the subject. The last time she had seen Narcissa had been in the drawing room during the war, and the woman had been urging her own husband to impregnate her. She had never seen her again after that.

Before Hermione could respond, Luna finally spoke up in her dreamy, oddly-knowing way. Surprisingly. She hadn't said anything the entire time. Hermione hadn't even realized she had been paying attention to the conversation.

“Lucius won't go back to Narcissa. He doesn't care for her the way he cares for you.”

Hermione scoffed at that. “The sex is great and all, but I don't even know that he does care for me, Luna.”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled brightly, turning back to stare into her glass. “Maybe he doesn't know either.”

Ginny snapped her fingers and pointed excitedly at her. “Well, that's it then! You just have to get him to realize it.”

“Oh it's that simple, is it?”

“Well no, but with our help you'll have him confessing his undying love in no time.”

Fleur was grinning conspiratorially. Luna was still smiling into her glass. Ginny was beaming at her, clearly still a little tipsy.

“It doesn't bother you?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “I didn't think you'd be on board, you know, considering what he did to you.”

Ginny gave her a look, arching a brow impressively.

“I was eleven. It was a long time ago and I've moved on. Besides,” she smiled, “it's clear you're madly in love with him and it would be nice for both of Prospero's parents to be together, don't you think?”

Hermione nodded quickly, wiping at her eyes. She was immensely grateful for the show of support.

“Now,” Ginny clapped her hands together, shooting them all a maniacal look, “let's get another round. We've got some scheming to do and we're going to need it.”

Hermione just laughed as Luna nodded dreamily and Fleur toasted the notion and Ginny's hand shot up, calling for another round.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione could hear the peals of laughter coming from inside the cottage as soon as she apparated home even though the door was closed. She smiled to herself as she stood upon the threshold. Lucius had evidently survived the afternoon. From the sounds he had even excelled at it.

She pushed open the door, and was greeted by the sound of a crash from the direction of the living room, the smile melting from her face. When she rounded the corner, the sofa was shoved against the far side of the room, and Lucius was facedown on the floor, an arm behind his back and Prospero on top of him clearly ‘winning’ their play fight.

“What are you doing?” They both looked up at the sound of her voice. “Why would you do this inside the house!?”

Lucius glanced around guiltily, and then peeled Prospero's fingers off his horn, climbing slowly to his feet. Prospero said something to him, and Lucius replied, holding out his hand in a placating gesture. An irrational stab of jealousy cut through her at their easy camaraderie, and Hermione had to take a deep breath to calm herself before she addressed Prospero. 

“Sweetheart, go wash up for dinner. Your father and I need to have a little chat. _ ” _

She turned her sharp glare on Lucius for a moment before looking back at her son. The tone of her voice, the set of her shoulders, and her clipped hand gestures all convinced him not to argue, though he looked back and forth between them hesitantly before turning and heading up the stairs. Hermione massaged her temples as she fought to rein in her self control. 

The crunch of bone was loud in the now quiet room, and Lucius’ voice was soft. “Don't blame the boy. It's not his fault.”

She turned sharply toward him, “I don't blame him. He's ten. You're the adult. What made you think this,” and she waved her hand at the state of the room, “was a good idea?”

“I just-”

“And there's mud in the entryway,” she continued, on a roll with her tirade. “You couldn't have cleaned up after yourself? I’m not your maid or your  _ bloody  _ house-elf. A simple  _ Evansco _ would have done it. And  _ then _ you could have set about destroying my house.”

Lucius’ gaze turned stony, and his posture stiffened even as he lowered his eyes, his discomfort clearly evident. 

“My wand was not included in the terms of my release,” he admitted quietly. “I am forbidden from practicing magic for the foreseeable future.”

Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth, stifling her shock, but far too late to be of any good in terms of keeping her foot out of her mouth. To be stripped of magic entirely was a terrible punishment. For someone like Lucius, who had been born to it, it was even worse, and the only reason he could shift form was because he wasn't registered. If the ministry knew they would probably send him right back to Azkaban.

“You used the Floo this morning.”

He nodded decisively.

“I just assumed you'd apparated. I didn't realize-”

“Yes, well I didn't. And I won't any time soon either.” He turned for the stairs, and her hopes for improving their relationship took a giant leap backwards. As prideful as Lucius was, it didn’t bode well for them after she had just managed to so thoroughly shame him.

“Lucius wait.” He paused at the bottom of the staircase, but he didn't turn around. “I’ve bollocksed everything up, but I didn't mean anything by it. Truly. Can we at least put this aside for Prospero's sake? For the moment anyway?”

He finally turned to look at her over his shoulder, and after a long pause nodded with a sigh, choosing to accept her olive branch.

“Yes, of course. I do apologize. We just got carried away, and… I'll help you if you want.” He gestured at the room around them.

Hermione shook her head. “I’ll get it. Why don't you go wash up too? Check on Prospero? He's probably worried.”

“Yes probably,” he agreed.

Lucius started up the stairs again, and if he noted that she had declined his help because she could set the room right more quickly on her own, he made no mention of it. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was a rather subdued affair that evening with Prospero noticeably quiet in a way that was uncharacteristic for him. It was actually Lucius who was instrumental in turning the evening around and making it less awkward. It probably had a lot to do with his experience navigating high society circles where doublespeak and tactful ignorance were the norm. It was something she had gotten a taste of after the war when victory celebrations were all the rage, and it was something she absolutely hated. Thankfully, Lucius was good at it; effortlessly it seemed, because he did something she hadn't expected him to. He remained in his human form for dinner which forced her to be the translator for the evening, and presented the two of them as allies rather than adversaries.

By the end of dinner, Prospero was almost back to his normal, outgoing self, and he was no longer shooting nervous glances at either of them. When they adjourned to the living room, Lucius surprised her further still when he took a plain brown package off the mantle that she hadn't noticed when cleaning up. It was possible he had brought it down with him before dinner. He held it for a moment, fingers gripping just a little too tightly to truly convey a sense of inner calm. 

“I don't know if he already has this one, but I wanted… I can get something else if-” Hermione gently took the package from his hands, their fingers brushing together as she did.

Lucius was trying so hard to make up for lost time with Prospero, and her irrational jealousy over that budding relationship was threatening to ruin everything. 

Their eyes met over the parcel between them, and for the first time ever, Hermione thought it just might be possible, that Fleur was probably right. She had rebelled against the idea when Fleur had first brought it up, and each time thereafter over the years, but now she understood what her friend had been getting at.

The situation was reversed for them of course. Bill wasn't exactly a beast, but the attack had changed him enough that Fleur had needed to learn how to love that side of him. Loving the beast in Lucius was easy. It was finding a way to love the man that was difficult.

Hermione took Lucius’ hand, and led him towards the sofa, urging him to sit. She handed the package back to him and followed suit, leaving space between the two of them, and motioned for Prospero join. As Prospero tore open the package in excitement, Hermione glanced at Lucius over the top of their son's head, and found him staring down at his son with rapt attention, a smile tugging at his lips. It was possible that finding a way to love the man wouldn't be as difficult as she had thought; not if she truly gave it a shot anyway.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“He already had that one. Didn’t he?” 

Hermione turned to look at him, halting her progress into the room. He was hovering in the doorway, one hand resting lightly on the frame.

“No.” Lucius followed her into her bedroom, closing the door behind him, and stopped inches from her. Even in his human form he towered over her, and his gruff demeanor as he looked down at her was reminiscent of his behavior that afternoon.

“You’re sure of that?” and he tilted his head in an unconscious display of dominance that she had only ever witnessed from the bulls in Prospero’s herd. 

How had she missed that before? She had always noticed how intelligently human the beast was, but she had never looked into Lucius’ human eyes and seen the beast staring back as he did now. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed it in his behavior in the kitchen before his outing with Prospero. She would have seen it in the way he rarely touched her after they were done fucking. It would be easy to blame it on the years of separation, but in truth, she had never paid attention to the man as she did to the beast.

“He didn’t. I’d been meaning to get it for him, but I hadn’t yet.” His eyes traveled down her body as though he were sizing her up, and then he looked away with a snort of disbelief. “You could have bought him every book he already owns, and it wouldn’t have mattered. He would have loved it because you’re his father.”

According to the plan, she was supposed to take things slow, supposed to seduce him, and make him realize that he needed her too. There were still issues they needed to resolve, and not just the ones she had stirred up earlier. Coming to a sudden decision to disregard all of that, Hermione stepped forward, reaching boldly for the waistband of his trousers before she could change her mind. It was time to take Fleur’s advice, and love the man as she loved the beast.

Lucius looked down at her in surprise, but he didn’t move away. She hesitated for only a moment before tugging his shirt free, but he didn't miss the tremble in her hands.

“Why so nervous? It isn't like we haven't done this. Just last night in fact.” He smirked. “And this morning.”

Her fingers paused at their task. “Do you want me?”

Lucius’ voice grew rough, nearly slipping into a growl. “I always want you.” His hands took over her work, and all too soon he stood bare-chested before her.

“Why do you want me?” She touched his chest, and felt the warm flesh beneath her hand. It wasn't the broad slab of corded muscle she was used to, but for a human, Lucius wasn't in terrible shape even after ten years behind bars.

“What is this about?” he asked, clear suspicion in his tone.

“Just answer the question.” Hermione could hear just how desperate her words sounded. She was sure Lucius could too.

He stood there staring down at her, his expression guarded, and he didn't speak for a long time until he finally acquiesced and softly said, “You know what I am.”

“So that's it's then? Convenience?” She had been afraid of that when she had decided to ask the question. It was something she had feared having confirmed when she had decided to stay in touch with him.

“You didn't let me finish,” he replied sternly. “When I fuck you, you know what I am, and it doesn't matter. You're wet, and warm, and you clearly love it. I'd know if it were faked. Now, what is this about?”

Hermione drew her bottom lip between her teeth, and said in as strong and clear a voice as she could muster, “I want you to fuck me.”

Lucius chuckled. “I was planning to.”

“I want  _ you _ ,” and she pressed her hand firmly against his chest to emphasize her words, “to fuck me.”

Her eyes shyly lifted to meet his. Lucius was taken aback, and it showed on his face, in the widening of his eyes, and the slight parting of his lips. “Why?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It's been brought to my attention that I've been neglecting one aspect of your nature in favor of the other.”

Lucius contemplated the statement as his piercing gaze bore into her. “You don't want a wizard. That's obvious,” and there was a certainty in his response she hadn't expected.

“I don't want a bull either. I've had my chances, and I've willingly let them slip through my fingers.”

“What do you want then if you don't want either?”

Hermione gave a small shrug. “Maybe it's not about want. Maybe I need both: someone who is both wizard and bull.” 

He didn't reply, and Hermione was sure she knew why. Lucius had only ever taken her as a human because he had to. 

“But if that's something you can't give me, I'll understand.” She pushed away from him, and found herself caught in his grasp when his hand covered hers.

“When was the last time?” Hermione tilted her head in confusion. “The last time you fucked a human?”

She lowered her gaze, but he forced her head back up with a finger under her chin. “You,” she choked out, her throat constricted, and she cleared it before attempting to speak again. “I’ve only ever fucked you.”

“As a human.”

“Yes.”

He lowered his hand. “And you never tried?”

“I never wanted to. It never appealed to me after...”

“After having the beast,” he finished for her, and Hermione nodded in confirmation. Lucius studied her intently, but she saw no condemnation in his eyes. “Have you ever been kissed?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Not the way you mean.”

Lucius cupped her cheek, pulling her closer. He leaned down until his lips were inches from hers.

“I’m a little out of practice,” he murmured, and she felt the warmth of his breath with his whispered words.

“I’ve been with no one since you…,” and Hermione barely had time to gasp in surprise before his soft lips met hers for the first time ever. Her first real kiss wasn’t quite what she was expecting. Lucius’ mouth was much softer than she was used to, and his tongue gently caressing her bottom lip wasn’t rough the way it was when he shifted. The whole experience had her stiffening in his grasp until he pulled back to look at her searchingly. 

“Perhaps we should try again,” he suggested, and Hermione nodded absently as she stared at his lips and waited for him to do so.

Lucius smiled. It was a tiny, hesitant thing, twitching at one corner of his mouth. He kissed her again more forcefully this time, his fingers tangled in her hair to hold her to him, and this time under his unrelenting assault, she responded. It was still clumsy, but her tongue stroked against his with enthusiasm and she moaned her encouragement as his hands slid beneath her bum to pick her up. Lucius wrapped her thighs around his waist and carried her the short distance to the bed, and then he dumped her onto the mattress, practically falling on top of her as he followed her down and made himself at home between her legs.

His mouth never left hers, hands tugging at her clothing, and soon they were both naked as his hard cock smeared precome across her stomach. Hermione broke the kiss with a gasp, and looked between them to watch his cock move against her skin.

“You can touch it,” he whispered, but Hermione just shook her head slightly as she watched in fascination. His laugh sounded more like a grunt or a snort and she could imagine his beast lurking just beneath the surface. Hermione cracked a smile at the thought that as many times as they had been intimate, she was afraid to touch his penis just because it was human.

Lucius took himself in hand, gave a few quick, cursory strokes, and positioned himself, rubbing the head against her before pressing inside. She groaned, her eyes drifting shut to concentrate on the feel of him entering her. It was a strange sensation. Lucius didn’t fill her the way he normally did. He wasn’t slick upon entry like he normally was. The shape of him was all wrong too. But his instincts… there was nothing foreign about those.

With her eyes closed, she could almost imagine that it was his bull thrusting into her, grunting with the effort as he gripped her hips tightly and fucked her without mercy. There was just enough of a disconnect: more elegant hands, a less guttural tone, and the way he didn’t completely dwarf her with his body, that the image in her mind was a wispy phantom of a thing and she couldn’t hold on to it. Hermione opened her eyes to look up at him, and he was staring down at her with the same desperation etched on his face that she felt inside. 

“This isn’t working,” she whispered.

“I know,” he grunted back.

Hermione pushed at his shoulder, and Lucius pulled away from her with a groan. They stared at each other, and the moment stretched between them, both breathing hard until Lucius’ erection began to flag, and Hermione came to a sudden realization. She turned over, and he was on her again, sheathing himself inside her, a low growl deep in his throat almost before she had gotten settled, and he was anything but soft.

He fucked her with the same single-minded determination that she was used to, and the foreign nature of the body on top of her no longer seemed to be an issue for either of them as they fell back on what had always worked so well between them before. Lucius’ fingers, elegant though they were, dug into her flesh as he hauled her roughly against him again and again. It was almost perfect, except…

And then suddenly he was hauling her around by the back of her neck. Their eyes met in the mirror across the room, and Hermione almost came from the intensity of his stormy, grey gaze alone as she saw his beast looking back at her. She thrust back against him with a cry, pleading for him to fuck her harder.

And as man and beast bled together, and the line between them blurred, Lucius was only too happy to oblige.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time after he rolled off of her, and they were both basking in the afterglow, Lucius reached out and touched her, sliding a hand across her stomach to pull her closer. She turned to look at him, and licked her lips, and reached out to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear gently, her fingers lingering on his cheek. The eyes that met hers were pale like a winter sky and less wrong than she had thought they would be, but…

“Do you mind terribly if I said I still preferred your bull?”

Lucius only shook his head, brushing a lock of hair off her face. He pressed his lips lightly against hers, and then he whispered, “I do miss this, but I prefer him too.”

The laugh she released was half a sob of relief, and she ducked her head against his shoulder as he pulled her closer still.

Lucius didn't say anything, and he grew quite still. She thought he had fallen asleep until he asked, “How does a bull actually kiss anyway?”

Hermione glanced up at him as if weighing her decision, but grinned and quickly licked his cheek, before snuggling into his side again.

He lifted his hand to wipe his face with a muttered, “Well that's disgusting,” but seconds later, she felt the broad sweep of his tongue against her own cheek. 

Hermione grimaced and groaned and felt the rumble of his laughter from deep inside his chest. He sighed in contentment, his hand moving higher to hesitantly caress her back, his fingers moving in a slow circular pattern.

“Does this means I'm staying then?” Lucius murmured. His fingers paused their movement on the top of her shoulder with his question. He seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for her answer.

Hermione opened her eyes, a twinge of apprehension in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't wanted to have this discussion so soon. “Do you want to stay?”

“Would you like that?”

_ Be brave _ , she thought to herself. It was a big leap for Lucius to even be asking the questions he was asking. She could at least be honest with her answers.

“Yes, I would like that.” His fingers began their slow dance across her skin again. It made Hermione smile. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but right now I just want to enjoy this.”

“Enjoy what?”

“This,” she whispered, trailing her fingers across his chest. “Cuddling. We've never done it before you know.”

Lucius made a noise, a small grunt of acknowledgement, and placed his chin on top of her head. “No. I suppose we haven't.”

“I’ve never actually…” He drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I don’t think I hate it…”

Hermione couldn’t stop the small grin that touched her lips. It wasn’t a declaration of undying love, but it was a start. Perhaps it was the start of something as beautiful as it was strange. 


End file.
